Marinette

Marinette stepped into the bustling terminal of Charles de Gaulle Airport, the fluorescent lights harsh against her tired eyes. Her bones ached from the long flight, but the relief of being back in Paris was like a warm blanket after a chilly night. Home. She could almost smell the rain-soaked streets and feel the city's familiar hum beneath her feet. She was here.

But as her gaze skimmed the busy crowd, she felt a pang of something hollow. She unlocked her phone, checking her messages—again. To say she'd checked her phone a thousand times would've been an understatement. There was still nothing from Johnny. The familiar, empty inbox stared back at her, and she felt the familiar ache sharpen.

She'd messaged him from the taxi. From the airport. On the plane, and when she'd landed. Yes, she knew there was a time difference and yes; she knew he was angry at her, but she would have highly appreciated a little support from someone who loved her. Just a short text to check she was okay. He didn't even need to mean it.

The arrival hall buzzed with energy, a whirlwind of joyful reunions straight out of Love Actually. Friends, families, and lovers embraced, their laughter mingling with the sound of rolling suitcases and cheerful greetings. Hugs and kisses—some passionate, some sweetly platonic—filled the air, creating a tapestry of smiling faces and heartfelt 'welcome homes'. It was a scene that made her heart flutter, reminding her of the magic of love in all its forms. The magic of love she was envious of.

She pushed her way through the crowds, making her way toward the buses, politely excusing herself as she passed by. No one was here for her. She hadn't even told her parents she was coming back. By the time she'd booked the flight and argued with Johnny, it was late in Paris and she needed to get to the airport. Even though she knew they wouldn't mind the late night wake up, it wasn't fair when Christmas was such a busy season for them. She looked at her watch, knowing they'd both be up now, preparing to open the boulangerie to the crowds of people wanting festive treats.

What a shock it will be when she walks in!

She dragged her case behind her, tapping her phone screen and typing another message to Johnny. Guilt flooding her that maybe she'd made the wrong choice. She should have stayed in New York. He was right; she hadn't seen or spoken to Master fu in years, but she couldn't help the need to come back.

Marinette: Just getting on the bus. I'll text you from my parents. I hope you had a good night with Roger. I miss you ️

She sighed, placing her phone away again, resisting the urge to check to see if it had delivered.

The queue for the city bus was long, but luckily they came extremely frequently, even this time in the morning. It was just past six and as much as she would have loved to have taken the train; she hadn't the energy to walk to the station.

Taking her place at the end of the queue, she peeked ahead to gauge how many people were in front of her before glancing back.

A rush of air left her lungs as she turned around, instantly regretting her decision. About thirteen people behind her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with striking blond hair and a face that was etched in her memory.

The face of one Adrien Agreste.

She quickly ducked back into place, standing straighter and pulling her scarf up around her neck and lower face. First hour back in Paris and of course the first person she'd see was Adrien Agreste.

She grabbed her phone and switched it to camera mode, holding it up to shoulder height and capturing a quick shot of the people behind. Quickly, she pulled her device back and examined her old — ex? — friend. The sunlight streaming in from the window had cast shadows that highlighted his features, transforming his side profile into a work of art, almost sculptural elegance. He was still a marvel, a mere god among mortals, with his glassy green eyes and sun touched hair.

A couple of impatient tourists moved from their space in the line, bringing Adrien a couple steps closer. Attempting to go unnoticed, she subtly shifted her weight, leaning just enough to catch his words over the quiet hum of tired chatter.

'Bonjour.' His voice was as velvety as she remembered, and suddenly memories of him saying her name came flooding back. No one said her name the way Adrien did, the syllables wrapping around his tongue in sheer pleasure.

A fierce prickling attacked behind her eyes, and she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, stopping the reminiscent emotion pouring out.

'How's my favourite girl doing?'

Her whole body shivered. A bone chilling shake making her wrap her arms around her tighter.

Though she couldn't see him, she heard every inch of love and happiness in his tone, her stomach making a new home in her feet. It had been years. Years. How could she have not expected him to move on? She had, after all. Her hand twitched for her phone again. She had Johnny; she was...happy...with Johnny. She closed her eyes and calmed the emotions.

Joy filled his voice as he spoke. 'I miss you, too. I'm thinking we can have a night in tomorrow. Just the two of us. Hot chocolate, cuddles and that movie you wanted to watch.'

A beat of silence. Then he laughed–the joy ringing effortlessly like a Christmas miracle. She could barely breathe as she listened to this one-sided conversation. The queue in front moved forward, the woman behind her pushing the suitcase into the back of her leg and causing her to wince.

'Yeah sure, you can stay with me tonight, after the big show, of course. I can't wait to see you perform. It's going to be the best night of the year. You're going to be the star of the show!'

God, she wished she knew who was on the other side of the phone. Which woman had captured the famed Adrien Agreste's heart? Was it someone she knew? The pain stabbed her in the chest before holding her stomach with an iron fist. Was it Kagami? Chloé?... Lila?

Zoé was an actress. She could be in a 'big show'. Had she finally fallen for him, too? No, that couldn't be right. Zoé was in New York, performing on Broadway. She'd asked Johnny to go with her to see the show, but he was right that in New York, people would mob him. That wouldn't have been fair to Zoé.

The queue moved forward. She had never been overly religious, but right now, she was praying to anyone who could make sure Adrien Agreste didn't get on the same bus. He still looked like an Adonis, while she looked more like an armadillo—if the armadillo had just finished a marathon and then got run over by its own shell.

She was almost certain her hair was sticking out everywhere and there was a stain on her jeans from where she'd spilled her red wine at the airport. Now would not be the best time for their first reunion in four years. She reached up, trying to pat the bird's nest down on the top of her head.

Why, oh why, wasn't she born one of those naturally beautiful round-the-clock women?

'Yeah, sure. I'll see you soon. I'm just waiting for the bus now.' Not to Paris. Not to Paris. Not to Paris, she prayed. Now would certainly be the perfect time for a Christmas Miracle. She stood still, breath held deep in her lungs, as she waited for his next reply. She'd been a good girl this year! She deserved a Christmas wish.

'Is he? I'll give Nino a call then and see if there's room for one more. Is Chris bringing his girlfriend again?'

Chris had a girlfriend? Wasn't he like twelve? Marinette attempted to do the maths on Nino's little brother. When she'd left Paris she was seventeen, which meant Chris and his crew were all twelve, which means they're now...sixteen. Yikes! She wondered how much she had missed in her old friends' lives. Girlfriends, boyfriends, weddings? Babies? Her breathing staggered. She didn't belong here anymore; she wasn't part of here. Johnny had been completely right! This was a mistake.

'I did not!' Adrien chuckled. 'Anyway, I'll give Nino a call. See you soon.'

Marinette's heart was hammering in her chest, her legs becoming restless as they dithered. She hadn't realised it was so cold here. The silence behind her had her on edge. The line slowly edged forward and Marinette lifted her phone again. She caught Adrien engrossed in something on his screen. Then he was looking around.

'Oooooppps!' she whispered, sending an apologetic look to the couple in front of her as she collided with their back. She grabbed her beanie hat from her travel bag and secured it on her head. She lifted her phone again and this time Adrien was looking in the opposite direction with his phone against his ear.

Then, his soothing voice caressed her ear again. However, this time, it was more than just Adrien's honey-tones that sent her into a tizz. As the conversation progressed everything inside her cried for a retry at her past, the conversation making her heart ache in a way she never thought possible. The one conversation, which didn't even involve her, made her feel more homesick than she had the four years she'd been away.

'Yo, Comrade Ketchup! I hear you're at the airport?' Adrien said.

Comrade Ketchup? Visions of younger, surprisingly, less complicated times ran through her mind. The entire gang gathered together around a table in their collège's basement plotting Monarch's demise. The start of her relationship with Adrien.

Stab! There went the knife in her heart again. So much for time bringing closure. She waited, holding her breath as he spoke.

'Yeah, something happened, and I had to catch an earlier flight...yeah, she's thrilled. Anyway, could I...' silence, broken by a small laugh. 'You're amazing! Do you know that?' He laughed again, and she wished she was in on the joke, the joy between friends. She didn't have friends in New York. Not really. Johnny always told her she could do better; that people were using her for her connections, and considering they were all out of work designers, he was most likely right. 'If your head gets any bigger, it won't fit in that tin can you call a car.' A moment later, Adrien was laughing again. 'Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll see you in ten.'

With a quick manoeuvre, she grabbed her phone again and held it up, watching as Adrien straightened the blue scarf that she gave him all those years ago, and walked in the opposite direction. The breath she was holding came out as stuttered gusts. There was one thing she hadn't considered when she'd come back to Paris, one thing — or person — she'd pushed to the back of her mind. And when that one person walked away, her heart wanted nothing more than to pull her around and run after him—again. Would her heart ever stop wanting to be with Adrien Agreste? She had a feeling she knew the answer.

On autopilot, she moved forward with the queue as they squeezed onto buses with their cases at their feet. This was going to be an awkward trip to Paris.

*****

Adrien

Adrien made quick work of pushing through the holiday crowds in the airport and towards the drop-off and collection point. A warmth wrapped around him like a giant hug as his eyes landed on Nino's Renault Clio. Throwing his bag into the back, Adrien shuffled himself into the passenger seat and held his hands together, blowing between them and trying to get some warmth.

Paris had the perfect weather for the holiday season. Frosty, cold and with the fear of snow looming in the thick icy air. It was delightful in every sense of the word, even more so as the deep crooning voice of Michael Bublé insulted his ears.

Nino laughed. 'Dude, anyone would think it's cold out there?'

Adrien glared at him as he moved his hands to the car's heating system. He could barely feel his fingers. He noticed Nino's attire. His friend looked as though he was about to go on an expedition to the South Pole. A sheep skin winter bomber hat, and a coat he was sure could double as a sleep bag. It was cold, but not that cold.

'What time does Chris land?' Adrien asked, noticing the backseats were still empty.

'He already did, an hour ago, and he forgot to tell me, so he's already on his way into Paris on the train. And I am now your own personal chauffeur.'

Adrien chuckled. That sounded about right. Chris' communication had drastically got worse over the years, Nino constantly being shafted by his brother. 'Well, at least I didn't make it a wasted journey for you then.'

'Most certainly not.' Finally getting some feeling back into his fingers, Adrien stretched up and fastened his seatbelt, sitting back and tapping Nino on the head. 'Drive, wench.'

Nino snorted, rolling his eyes as he adjusted his own seatbelt. 'Wench, huh? You sure you want to start the insults before I've even hit the highway? Keep it up, and you'll be walking home, my friend.'

Adrien smirked, nestling into the seat. 'Oh, please. We both know you'd miss me too much.'

'Miss you? The only thing I'd miss is the silence,' Nino shot back, but a grin was already spreading across his face. 'And maybe the smell of your cologne filling my car like a luxury department store. Seriously, man, did you bathe in that stuff?'

Adrien laughed, tapping his fingers on the dashboard. 'It's called making an entrance, my friend. You could use a lesson or two in that department.'

'Yeah, well, my entrance fees are a lot lower,' Nino quipped. He threw the car into gear and signalled to pull away from the curb. 'Now sit back, rich boy, and let the peasant drive you home.'

Adrien leaned back, crossing his arms. 'I do hope the peasant remembers the way.'

'Trust me, the peasant has it all under control,' Nino replied, throwing him a mockingly regal wave.

The airport was nothing more than a couple of roads playing as tangled spaghetti. They swerved over and under each other, wrapping around to the different terminals and playing mind games with those dumb enough to drive it. One wrong mistake, and you could loop around and around for the next decade of your life, which Adrien thought was maybe his fate. Thirty minutes later, they were finally free.

'So, any reason you caught an earlier plane? Or were you just missing me that much?'

Adrien snorted at Nino's egotistical comment. 'As much as I love your face, I unfortunately had a call. A mentor of mine, one of my Chinese instructors, from when we were teens, has died, and apparently I'm an executor of the will.'

Nino scratched his jaw, his eyes narrowing in front of him, brooding. 'Just what you need dude, more money.'

If they weren't driving that would have earned Nino a slap around the back of the head. Adrien knew he wasn't exactly hard up, okay if he was being honest, he wasn't hard up at all. He was comfortable for at least the next one hundred years, which was great considering he was only twenty-one. But he doubted any of Fu's assets were valuable, probably a bunch of old Miraculous things he didn't want anyone else putting their hands on. Fu wasn't exactly a material man. He lived his life with very little. Chinese pottery and his gramophone.

Nino spoke again after taking a rather questionable turn off the highway. 'Seriously though, this person must not have known many people or else he would have chosen someone who needed it more.'

Adrien didn't know how much to tell Nino. He had been keeping this secret tight to his chest for eight years now, with only one person knowing the truth. Adrien worried that Nino would disregard his revelation or that it could damage their close friendship, the closest he had outside of family. Nino hated secrets almost as much as Adrien did, revealing his heroic identity back when they were teens. But Adrien's secret was different, wasn't it? He couldn't just come out with, 'oh, FYI, I'm Chat Noir, and it's the dude who gave me the Miraculous who's dead.' He'd need to speak to Ladybug about it.

Ladybug.

She'd been the star of his dreams last night, when he'd finally got to sleep, that was. His mind was a mix of thoughts, worries, and anxiety. A lot had changed in his life. A lot!

And if she was the girl he remembered her to be, there was no doubt in his mind that the girl in the mask would be back in Paris, maybe even face to face with him at the reading of the will. Butterflies woke up in his stomach. He had needed her for so long that he wasn't sure if he could take the reappearance of her with a level head. She sat comfortably in his heart amongst those he missed and would do anything to see again.

He needed to climb out of this never ending hole before his depression clouded his judgement again. 'Anyway, onto more important things. How was Emily whilst I was away?'

Nino smiled brightly, his eyes remaining firmly on the road. 'Hyped up for Christmas and dragged us all along for it.'

The butterflies in Adrien's stomach settled, a warmth taking its place like a roaring fire on a cold winter's day. 'To be fair, it's the first Christmas she has an idea what's happening, and since we watched The Santa Clause, she's been asking if it's Christmas every day.'

Nino laughed. 'You don't need to tell me that. It was the first thing she asked this morning and the last thing she asked last night. You're lucky Sophia hasn't gone insane yet.'

Adrien smiled fondly. 'That woman has the patience of a saint. Has everything else been okay?' he asked, an anxious grip holding tightly on his chest.

'She used her inhaler when needed, but she was brilliant. Seriously Adrien, you act like we've never taken care of a three-year-old before.'

And, in fact, they hadn't—not on their own at least. Nino and Alya would constantly tell him how they had looked after their siblings, but their parents were there, and it was never overnight. This was the first time since Emily was born that Adrien had left her to go on a business trip—then ended up coming back early, anyway. Not that he minded.

'She conned us both into watching Encanto with her. She's very persuasive when she wants to be,' Nino said, a bright smile on his face. His best friend would never admit it, but Waiting on a Miracle could bring the guy down to his knees. Find him in the right mood and Nino would cry like a baby.

'What did I say to you, man?' Adrien said sternly, before speaking at the same time as Nino.

'We don't talk about Bruno.'

They burst out laughing, Nino pulling off one road and onto another and heading into the chaotic maze of the centre of Paris. Adrien rarely drove himself, and he never drove with Emily in the back. It wasn't that he didn't trust himself, he just didn't trust anyone else on the road.

The city lights softened as dawn crept over the horizon, casting a faint, lavender glow that mingled with the golden street lights. Christmas trees stood proudly in front of shopfronts and windows, their twinkling lights fading as the first hints of morning began to push back the night. As Nino's car moved through the quiet streets, Paris seemed to stir gently around them, stretching and yawning awake.

He watched as the city unfolded in slow motion. Café owners lifted metal grates and set up outdoor tables, brushing away fallen leaves and scattering salt to keep the morning frost at bay. A few early risers walked briskly along the side walks, clutching steaming cups of coffee from bakeries just opening their doors. The faint smell of freshly baked baguettes and buttery croissants drifted into the car, making Adrien's stomach rumble.

'Still got a soft spot for the quiet mornings, huh?' Nino glanced at him with a knowing smile, catching Adrien watching as Paris shook off its slumber.

'Always,' Adrien replied, his voice softer than usual. Mornings made him think of her. A name he couldn't speak due to the heartache linked to her. She hated mornings, which only made him love them more. 'It's like... watching the city come to life. Like it's letting you in on a secret.'

They passed by a flower shop, where an old woman was setting out bunches of mistletoe and pine wreaths, her hands moving in a familiar rhythm. A paperboy biked past them, tossing rolled-up newspapers onto doorsteps with practised ease, his scarf trailing behind him like a bright ribbon in the morning chill. There was something so steady and reassuring in these little routines, a quiet reminder of how life flowed on in its own gentle way here.

The Seine came into view, its surface just beginning to catch the pale glow of the rising sun. Streetlamps lining the river blinked off one by one, giving way to the soft, natural light of dawn. The bridges stood as proud silhouettes, arching gracefully over the water, and Adrien felt a swell of affection for this city—his city.

He let out a long breath, feeling himself settle, like he was truly home. 'Thanks for the early morning rescue, man,' he said, turning to Nino with a smile that held more than just gratitude.

'Anytime,' Nino replied, stifling a yawn as he navigated a sleepy boulevard. 'Besides, you'd just get lost in some endless airport maze. Someone's gotta bring you back to civilisation.'

Adrien chuckled, feeling warmth seep through him. Watching Paris wake up felt like a homecoming all its own, and in that quiet, early morning glow, he realised there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

Nino continued his manoeuvre through the streets with practised ease, moving swiftly in the direction of the mansion. Adrien still lived in the same house, though it was no longer the dark dingy mansion he grew up in. He'd worked long and hard with Nathalie to make it into a home. They'd renovated everything from the gates to the back garden, and all that was in between. He still fondly recalled how exciting it had been to remodel his room, taking it from a teenager's dream into a young adult's oasis.

And as they passed Tom and Sabine's boulangerie, he felt the anxiety since the call about Master Fu slowly faded. He was almost home with his girl, and that was all that mattered.

Adrien had a clear love/hate relationship with Christmas. He loved it with his mother, hated it when she was gone. Loved it with his friends, and hated it when a specific one had left.

But now...he loved Christmas with a sheer ferociousness and this year would become his favourite one to date as he got to share it with the most beautiful, funny and smart girl he'd ever met. One that was sitting on the steps of their home, holding a small ladybug comforter in her hands.